


Stuck With No River

by Charmingwolf



Category: Forever (TV), MASH (TV)
Genre: Crying, Death, Delusions, Hurt!Henry, Korean War, Surgery, canon typical death, hurt children, like you really have to be looking, no porn just corn, teeny tiny hints of shipping, thats funny to say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-01 02:56:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5189486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charmingwolf/pseuds/Charmingwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The M*A*S*H 4077th has the highest survival rates of any mobile hospital in its time.</p><p>Henry Morgan has the longest survival rate of any human. Ever. </p><p>Put them together and what do you get? A good old time for young and old, an over flowing Post-Op, and blood on your hands that never seems to go away. </p><p>They are stuck without a safety net and Dr. Morgan is stuck without a river.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stuck With No River

**Author's Note:**

> *cracks knuckles*  
> SUP PEOPLE  
> welcome to this crossover fic.  
> If you have not seen or are not completely familiar with a half of this fic i urge you to see these Wiki pages  
> http://mash.wikia.com/wiki/Main_Page  
> http://forever.wikia.com/wiki/Forever_Wiki
> 
> This fic can be read without previous knowledge of either fandom to an extent but i strongly suggest you check out the wiki if you don't know what Forever is.

“INCOMING WOUNDED! SHOWING UP IS REQUIRED! YES, ATTENDANCE IS BEING TAKEN.” 

“If only all the cutters were here!” Hawkeye countered.

Triage was turning into a daunting task but the nurses and Hawkeye were handling it. BJ was getting scrubbed up to at least start making a dent. 

Two surgeons in the whole camp and enough wounded that they might have to clear out the mess tent as second post op. Colonel Potter had gone to a conference and Charles decided to get a nice bit of R&R in Tokyo. Potter had promised a surgeon on loan but no one had shown up, leaving the two remaining slightly hungover and drowning in wounded. 

“Uh, Hawkeye?” The mousey voice of Radar came from the left. 

“What is it, Radar?” Hawkeye didn’t turn to him, “He’s shocky, get him some plasma.” 

The nurse nodded and the soldier was collect for Pre-Op. 

“I just got a call from Seoul and the surgeon we requested should be here soon.” Radar followed the captain to the next body.

“Perfect. Get him scrubbed right when he shows up.” Hawkeye heaved a sigh as he looked under the bandages and check the pulse, “Get Father Mulcahy over here!” 

Margaret ran up. “Pierce, we need you in OR. It’s really piling up. My nurses can handle this.”

 

“I don’t doubt it.” Hawkeye rushed to get ready for a long session. 

~~~~~

Two hours later a Jeep pulled up. A man in his dress uniform climbed out, collected his bag and thanked his driver. 

A young man came running out. “Major Henry Morgan?” 

“Yes?”

 

“Thank goodness. You need to get to OR right now. I’ll take care of your bag.” He picked it up and hurried back to his office.

Henry blinked at the suddenness before turning around. “Oh my.” 

Wounded were still being brought in. Nurses scrambled from patient to patient with a priest not far behind. Dr. Morgan had never been to a M*A*S*H Unit before and while he did not like being this close to the front lines, his curiosity of how they worked had gotten the better of him and he volunteered to help for a short time. 

Following the bodies to Pre-Op, Henry took off the top layers of his uniform and got ready for surgery. 

He was led to a table and a body was placed in front of him. 

“Well, look who decided to show up!” one of the surgeons announced. His black hair was poking out from under his hat and he shot Henry a look. “What do they call you? Captain Fashionably-Late?”

Henry set to work when the patient was put under. “Actually its Major Fashionably-Late.”

The man mocked with an “OOO,” and continued his work. 

“This one catches on fast,” the other surgeon said, tossing a used sponge on the floor. 

After a moment, the first surgeon asked his nurse to close up and made his way to Henry’s table. He looked over Henry’s work and actually gave off an air of being impressed.

“I’d shake your hand, but yours seem rather busy at the moment.”

“As does your mouth,” Henry said smoothly, plucking out some shrapnel and putting it in the tray. 

The man chuckled. “I’m Captain Benjamin Franklin Pierce. Just call me Hawkeye. My partner in crime over there is Captain BJ Hunnicutt.” 

“Ah ‘Last of the Mohicans’.” Henry nodded. “Dr. Henry Morgan. Contrary to my previous statement, I do not like the use of ranks among doctors.”

Hawkeye had since returned to his table and fresh gloves were slipped on his hands. 

“Where are you from?” a nurse asked.

“Easy there, Margaret,” Hawkeye teased.

“England, but I have been a resident of America for quite a while,” Henry answered. 

“Oh, Charles might like talking to you,” BJ said.

~~~~~

Hawkeye felt like he was going to pass out before he got to the Swamp. He yawned and leaned on BJ heavily. 

 

“What time is it?” BJ asked.

Hawkeye squinted up at the sun. “Daytime. Perfect time to sleep.”

BJ grunted in agreement.

Distantly Radar was talking to the visiting doctor with the fancy accent. He was going to stay in the V.I.P. tent. The Swamp Rats would have offered for him to bunk with them, but as far as Hawkeye was concerned, they should be considered dead once they hit the cots.

~~~~~ 

Major Morgan was no stranger to long nights and long surgeries. After the first two World Wars he thought he had seen it all. He should have known he was wrong. After 173 years, Henry Morgan should have known better. 

His old journal came to sit on the desk and he started to write. He wrote as much of the techniques he could remember from the operating room. It was an upside to living so long. He saw new steps in medicine every year and while he considered the surgery performed in the last 48 hours quick and anything but pretty he had to admit the talent was impressive. They had managed to save a few legs that Henry would have amputated any other time. A nurse informed Henry that this particular unit had a 98 percent survival rate. To that statistic, Henry gave an impressed look behind his mask and finished a suture.

Henry wrote all of this down before searching his bag for an envelope. He hadn’t gotten a chance to read his most recent letter from his wife before he was pushed onto a plane for Korea. 

_‘My dearest Henry,_

_We miss you so much and hope you come home safely. Abraham is having no trouble making friends in our new neighborhood…’_

The letter went on for three pages, detailing their life for the last week. Henry cherished these letters and he loved finding that Abigail and his son were safe and sound. 

The last page was a crudely written letter that Henry could only assume was Abraham’s contribution. Three photographs sat in the envelope. Henry was not quite on board with the idea of a camera at first but the photographs that came with every letter had quieted his worry.

The first photo was of Abraham writing his letter and smiling. Then a heavily blurred picture of Abigail. The last was a of Abraham and Abigail standing in front of their new apartment building. They had wide smiles on their faces that made Henry’s heart ache. Abraham had grown so much. Abigail had remained as beautiful as the day Henry first met her. Her blonde hair framed her face and her gentle hands held Abraham close.

The doctor took out his pocket watch and checked the time. He really needed to sleep. The young clerk, Corporal O'Reilly, said that it wouldn’t be long before more wounded were brought in. 

~~~~~

A knock on the Swamp’s door brought BJ and Hawkeye out of their sleep. The door opened a second later. 

“Please leave a message with the secretary.” Hawkeye rolled over and pulled his pillow over his head.

As expected, the person disturbing their sleep was Radar, who said “Oh, right,” under his breath. He made his way through the mess of the Swamp to BJ and tapped his shoulder. 

“Captain Hunnicutt, sir?” 

BJ groaned. “Yes, how can I help you?”

“I need you to give a message to Hawkeye.”

“Yeah, shoot.” BJ turned his head toward Radar and glared. 

“One of his patients is complaining about leg pain and won’t talk to any of the nurses.” Radar said shuffling around.

“I’ll tell him right away. Thanks, Radar.” BJ yawned then grabbed one of his boots from the floor and threw in in Hawkeye’s general direction. “I know you heard all that.”

Hawkeye shot into a sitting position and threw the boot back. Then he put his own boots and robe on half-heartedly before following Radar out of the Swamp. At Post-Op he stopped a nurse and asked what the problem was.

The problem was Jared Wahl, a 23 year old who lost his leg (one of the few who did this session). The artery couldn’t be salvaged, so amputation was the only way to save him. Jared was experiencing phantom pains in the leg that weren’t there anymore. It was completely normal, but knowing that didn’t help anybody. Hawkeye told the nurse to bring him a pillow and to give Wahl a pain killer.

“Hello, Private Wahl. The nurses told me you were giving them some trouble,” Hawkeye said with a smile “Normally the complaints aren’t about not wanting them around.”

“They won’t listen to me. They said my leg is gone and that I’m going home.” Wahl clenched his fists in the blanket, his thin face showing displeasure like a cartoon character, “I can’t go home.”

“Well, that really isn’t your choice. You’re scheduled to go on the next chopper to the Seoul evac first thing tomorrow.” Hawkeye looked over the chart and even showed Wahl the chicken scratch that covered the page.

“But my leg isn’t even gone! I can feel it. I can feel pins and needles in my toes,” Wahl said. 

Hawkeye sighed and felt the urge to hit his head with the clipboard more to wake himself up then out of frustration. The nurse gave him a pillow. 

“Okay, let’s see if this helps.” Hawkeye lifted up the blanket by the soldier’s remaining leg and put the pillow under it. “Did that make a difference?”

Wahl nodded. “A little, yeah.”

“Good.” Hawkeye pulled up a stool near the bed. “We tried to save your leg but we couldn’t find a replacement artery in time and even if we did, there wasn’t much for us to save. I’m sorry, but at least you get to go home.”

“I can’t go home yet. I don’t have enough money yet.”

“For what?”

“My wife and I never got to have a honeymoon because I was drafted. I was saving up so I could take her to New York.” Wahl ran a hand down his face, trying to stop from crying. “Even if I had enough, how am I supposed to take her to New York now?”

“Where are you from?” Hawkeye tilted his head and leaned forward.

“Ohio.” 

“That isn't too far off from New York.” Hawkeye said.

“Yeah, sure it isn't, but-”

“Just cause you lost a leg doesn’t make it impossible for you to move. You can use a wheelchair or crutches or even try out a prosthetic once you get stateside, but don’t ever let it stop you. You get to go home - focus on that. Focus on seeing your wife.” 

A nurse came by to give Wahl the pain killers. Wahl nodded at Hawkeye’s words and fell quiet. 

“Get some rest. You’ll need it for when you get home.” Hawkeye smiled and patted Wahl’s shoulder before standing. He returned the stool, gave some instructions to the nurse and left. 

No less than three seconds after he had put his head on his pillow another knock pounded its way into his head. 

“Choppers are coming, sir!” Radar announced before running off to the V.I.P. tent to warn the new guy.

“Good morning, Beej. How did it feel to see the backs of your eyelids?” 

“Not as satisfying as I had hoped,” BJ said, putting on his boots and trugging out of the tent with his blanket still around his shoulders.

~~~~~

Unlike the other surgeons present, Henry worked in relative silence. He threw comebacks when they were needed but went straight back into his thoughts. He checked and rechecked everything out of habit. Nothing about this so called “Meatball” surgery was different from what he saw during the first two World Wars. He was even surprised to find he was getting into a rhythm with - what seemed like, - hundreds of soldiers. 

Before he knew it, he was back in his tent. He was laying on his cot, still in his bloodied scrubs, with a thought of, “This isn’t the worst you’ve seen,” repeating in his head. He’d seen the camps, he’d seen the people that worked so hard to get away. He’d seen serial killers and early medicine and felt the sting of death so many times. None of this was new...and yet…

Everything was.

Henry woke with a start. He sat up and looked around his tent. Nothing was different from when he went into surgery only, he was still wearing his scrubs. He changed and went across the camp to the scrub room to discard the clothes.

As the scrubs hit the bottom of the bin, he saw his hands. He must have washed them before leaving because they were clean, but something in Henry’s head said they were sticky. The next second, his hands were in the sink being scrubbed viciously.

~~~~~

Father Mulcahy thought it would be a nice gesture to invite the new surgeon to lunch. He hadn’t formally met the man or seen him at the mess tent, so maybe a friendly smile would help him feel welcome. 

No answer came to the light rappings on the door of the doctor’s tent. 

“Doctor Morgan?” Mulcahy said. When no answer came, his eyebrows scrunched in worry.

Mulcahy made his way to the mess tent. He scanned the crowd of people for anyone he didn’t recognize. People tended to look different out of their scrubs. Mulcahy kept searching the tent, deep in thought and worry about the new doctor. He knew doctors from Tokyo weren’t exactly used to the way M*A*S*H units ran. They were used to the people who were on their way out or just needed extra care before being sent back to the front lines. Those doctors weren’t used to fast pace and the amount of panic that could be a daily occurrence at the 4077. 

“You all right, Father?”

The priest swerved around at his name and looked up at Dr. Hunnicutt. “I’m...fine. Just looking for Dr. Morgan, have you seen him?”

“No, I haven’t. Not since the last session.” BJ looked around the tent and hummed. “Have you checked Post-Op?”

“No, I haven’t. I was going to check there next.” Mulcahy stuffed a hand in his pocket and stroked his chin in thought. “You know, he hasn’t really talked to anyone. He was almost completely silent in surgery.”

“Well, it wasn’t all soldiers last session.”

Mulcahy nodded. “I should find him to make sure he’s all right more than anything. I’ll talk to you later, BJ.”

“Talk to you later, Father.”

Then both went separate ways. BJ to a table and Mulcahy to Post-Op. 

Hawkeye was on duty in Post-Op. When Mulcahy walked in, the doctor was making funny faces to make his patient smile. The patient was a little Korean boy around the age of eight or nine, he took some shrapnel but nothing Hawkeye couldn’t take care of. The boy’s brother was around 11 or 12 and wasn’t so lucky. He lost one of his legs and took enough shrapnel to the stomach and chest that it was amazing he even lived through the operation, though he hadn’t woken up yet.

Hawkeye stopped Mulcahy before he could leave for the office. “Hello, Father.” 

“Good evening, Hawkeye,” the Father greeted with a soft smile. “Have you seen Major Morgan?”

Hawkeye looked around and thought before saying, “No, I haven’t, actually. I was gonna invite him to the poker game tomorrow. Sidney is coming so I figured why the hell not.”

Mulcahy nodded. “Well, I will certainly send him your way if I find him.”

“I assume you’ll be at the game?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Mulcahy’s smile grew wider and he turned to leave.

~~~~~

Dr. Morgan was curled up in a corner of the scrub room with his arms red and tears all over his face. Mulcahy got on his level and asked what was wrong. 

“Why couldn’t I have saved him?” was the response. 

Mulcahy sighed. “Not everyone can be saved in war.” He put a hand on Henry’s shoulder to comfort him.

“He was only a child. His blood is on my hands,” Henry said. He looked at his hands and fresh tears trailed off his cheeks, “The blood is still here, see?” 

Father Mulcahy took Henry’s hands and said, “You are to blame for nothing. You tried to save him.” 

“I failed. I failed them all. I failed his mother, oh, his poor mother…” Henry trailed off and looked through Mulcahy at the wall.

The statement struck the Father as odd, because the children were with soldiers and being escorted to an orphanage after being found huddled in an abandoned hut. It was the topic of conversation in OR. How sad it was for so many children to be misplaced at once and a couple promises for donations to the orphanage. Morgan’s statement seemed to be one made out of delusion.

A long moment of silence fell between them as Mulcahy tried to come up with a solution to Dr. Morgan’s overwhelming hysteria.

“Do you want to go to Post-Op and check on your patients?” he offered.

Henry swallowed and dabbed his eyes with the back of his hand. “I suppose. It would be better then going home to tell her what happened.” 

Mulcahy nodded and helped Henry up. The doctor was in his fatigues, which was better than him still being in his dress uniform or scrubs. Mulcahy slowly walked Morgan to Post-Op. As they walked the doctor seemed to compose himself. By the time they walked into Post-Op, Henry looked professional and put together, the only evidence of him having cried being the red around his eyes. 

Hawkeye was working at the desk on the far side of Post-Op; Nurse Able was changing the dressings on a soldier’s chest wound. Henry walked down aisle in the center of the room and stopped at boy who hadn’t woken up yet. He picked up the boy’s chart and stared at it. 

Henry grabbed a stool and took a seat next to the boy. He could feel tears starting to sting his eyes again. He gently took the boy’s hand and held it like one would a dying family member. 

“I’m sorry…” he whispered and tears came rushing over his cheeks. 

Mulcahy stayed at the end of the bed with his eyebrows pressing together in worry. Hawkeye made his way over and rested a hand on Mulcahy’s shoulder.

“Is he all right?” the doctor asked.

Mulcahy took in a deep breath and chewed his cheek in thought. “I believe he thinks this boy is his son.”

Hawkeye hummed in understanding and nodded. “Maybe we should call Sidney to come early.”

“Yes maybe.” Mulcahy worried over his hat. “I could go ask Radar if you want to talk to Dr. Morgan.”

“Yeah. Yeah…” Hawkeye patted Mulcahy’s shoulder and waited for him to leave the room before taking a seat across from Henry.

“What did I do wrong?” Henry whispered. “Why couldn’t I protect you, Abraham?” 

Hawkeye listened but didn’t say anything. He was fairly certain this kid wasn’t named Abraham. 

~~~~~ 

His heart was aching. His family was falling apart again and he didn’t know if he would handle it. Henry held onto his son’s hand and let the tears fall. How could he put his family in danger? How could he? Did Abigail know what had happened to their son? He had tell her somehow. 

Henry looked at his hands through the tears. They were clean, he knew this. He washed his hands so many times. He knew they were clean but they still felt sticky. He could still feel the wet warmth of blood on his hands and he felt sick because of it. 

There was something in the back of his head questioning how he got to Post-Op. He didn’t remember walking there. He didn’t remember talking to anyone. All he could remember was operating on Abraham then appearing at his bedside. 

~~~~~

For a while there was silence in Post-Op save for the quiet talking from the nurses and the general camp noise outside. Henry looked up and wiped his eyes with a handkerchief he produced from his pocket. After wiping his eye he ran the handkerchief over his hand as if to clean them of something. 

Then it happened. The boy’s hand moved and soon after the boy opened his eyes. Henry’s face lit up.

~~~~~

Sidney had arrived a couple hours after the boy had woken up. The psychiatrist observed and talked to Henry for a while. He concluded that Henry was projecting his worries about life stateside onto the Korean child and had convinced himself that he had operated on his son. Sidney said it would pass once Henry got another letter from home or when the boy left the hospital. 

The next day, Henry was back at his patient’s bedside. Even though the boy was not getting better he still tried to speak. What little he got out, Henry was able to understand. 

“I learned Korean from some interpreters in Tokyo. I figure if you are going into a land you might as well be able to communicate.” 

Everyone was impressed to say the least and the doctor was able to learn the children’s names. He held short conversations and it seemed that the delusion of his “son” being hurt was broken. Conversations turned to book reading - the children loved it. 

Henry’s patient died later that night while they were playing poker. 

~~~~~

The next morning, Hawkeye and BJ found Dr. Henry Morgan passed out on the floor of the Swamp with a glass in his hand. Upon further examination, the doctor was suffocating on his own vomit. Before either of the other doctors could do anything, Henry Morgan was dead.

And then he…

Disappeared.

Hawkeye and BJ stared at each other in disbelief. 

“And you were saying we had just about seen it all.” Hawkeye said.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Please comment and kudos!
> 
> Tumblr: Thecoyotetrickster.tumblr.com
> 
>  
> 
> ~~~~  
> this fic was a fucking nightmare


End file.
